Iron and Gold
by Absinthe Verte
Summary: Post-battle. The Order have captured the Malfoys, but their betrayal of Voldemort means they are not popular with either side. In need of somewhere to hide, Draco blurts out the name of a girl he hasn't seen in nearly eight years; a girl nobody can even remember - Astoria Greengrass: pureblood, orphan, squib. AU? Kind of. Draco/Astoria. Slow romance.
1. Chapter 1

It only took eleven days to find and capture the Malfoy family. But considering who they were really running from, Draco supposed (begrudgingly) that it was really quite lucky, in the end, that it was the Order who found them.

Kingsley Shacklebolt (acting Minister of Magic) agreed, and was quick to tell them so. Draco felt less thankful after that.

And now, here they were, sat in the Minister of Magic's large office, almost like old times, except for the plethora of unguarded malice directed at them from the other wizards and witches as they came in and out of the room. Kingsley himself sat behind the large, dark wooden desk of the Minister of Magic, his robes as vibrant as ever but his face drained as he straightened the many rolls of parchment scattered across the top.

"Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, as you know, Lucius remains in custody. He is currently being questioned, and we will keep you up to date on the progress of the investigation. However, neither of you are currently under arrest, since Harry Potter has had a private word with me and revealed certain...facts, which I will not mention here," he said, with a slight gesture to the other people still milling in and out of the room, as well as a man Draco could only assume was an assistant of some kind sat to his side, a Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously before him.

" However, as there is still a high number of un-captured Death Eaters at large, and as there is a good chance they will be aware of your...'betrayal', it has been deemed necessary that you both go into hiding. At least until a decision has been made about whether or not the Ministry will bring charges against you, that is," he said firmly, and Draco thought it was a poor show of control. If Potter wanted them prosecuted, they would be. If not, they wouldn't. It was always going to be The Potter Show. Draco looked away, picking at his bitten nails instead.

"Narcissa," continued Kingsley, "Your sister, Andromeda, has offered you a temporary place with her. I don't think I need to impress upon you the generosity of this offer given the recent deaths of her husband, daughter and son-in-law, and her current guardianship of her grandson."

Kingsley gave Narcissa a very serious look, and Narcissa gave a strained and very small smile, nodding slightly, but said nothing.

"I think given the current situation, it is best for you to go immediately. Please say goodbye to your son here. You may write, but I would highly recommend you use your words carefully, and do not mention where you are staying if you want to ensure the safety of yourselves and your hosts," said Kingsley, and then turned to his assistant to begin a quiet discussion, giving them at least the facade of privacy.

It wasn't needed. There were no words to say between them at that moment - no words they wanted to say. They simply nodded at each other, and Narcissa brushed her hand down the arm of her son lightly, who tried not to flinch. Then, she left. Kingsley ended his discussion with his assistant quickly, and thankfully showed no reaction to the Malfoy's stilted goodbye.

"Draco Malfoy, sadly this invitation from Andromeda does not extend to you. So, in light of the fact that you have no other close relatives or associates who are not known or suspected to be involved in the dark arts-"

"Yes I do!" said Draco. It was the first thing he'd said for the entire meeting, and he had no idea why he'd said it. Kingsley was right, it was a complete lie.

"Oh?" said Kingsley, looking genuinely surprised, "Then please, by all means, enlighten us."

Draco sat there, mute again. What could he say? Why did he have to come out with something so stupid? They already hated him, now they would think he was a compulsive liar too. He probably was.

"Well," continued Kingsley, after the silence had stretched out for what seemed like an age, "Unless you can come up with a name, we feel the only other option is to stay with one of the Order. Bill Weasley is, I believe-"

"No, wait!" said Draco. There was no way he was staying with a _Weasley!_ "I have a name, it's..."

Draco wracked his brains, trying to come up with a name, any name, any name at all that was neither one of Potter's ghastly friends nor a Death Eater. Surely there had to be one!

"Yes?" Said Kingsley, clearly getting impatient.

The Quick-Quotes Quill was scribbling across the parchment like mad. Think of something! He had to think!

"Astoria Greengrass!"

The Quick-Quotes Quill stopped scribbling.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading, let me know what you think! I have a plotline in mind, but it's not all written out yet - I'm writing this for fun but if there is some interest, it will definitely encourage me to write faster. Also, this is unlikely to line up with Pottermore much, as I don't generally use/read it, but as I personally don't count that as truly 'canon' I would say this will still only be minimally AU.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Draco met Astoria, it had been at her mother's funeral.

He had been around ten years old at the time, from what he remembered - she just over year older than him at eleven.

Eurydice Greengrass, Astoria's mother, had been a Ministry employee as well as a member of one of the more prominent pureblood families (although, Draco would later learn, not one of his parent's favourite families; Eurydice and Laurentius Greengrass had been notably reluctant to take sides during the Dark Lord's first ascent to power). This meant that Malfoy's were, of course, expected to attend the funeral of the late Mrs Greengrass.

Draco remembered asking his father, as he watched him place his most formal black cloak over his shoulders, how Mrs Greengrass had died.

"She was an Unspeakable, Draco, as I told you earlier this morning. Even _I_ don't know how she died," he said as he looked himself over in the hallway mirror, sounding as though he would absolutely _love_ to know the gory details of the woman's demise.

Draco's next clear memory of that day was after the funeral, at the Greengrass family home. Their home was large, although not nearly as big as Malfoy Manor, an old Tudor-style farmhouse with extensive, landscaped gardens. It was in these gardens that he met Astoria. He'd abandoned his parent's boring conversation with the Minister for Magic about some new law or other, and found his way to the French windows which led out to the back garden. There, a few metres ahead, Astoria Greengrass sat on a garden bench, her feet scuffing back and forth over the stone floor. Her hair was draped over the back of the bench, a slightly frizzy mass of dark blonde curls. Draco was immediately drawn to sit with her; she was one of the only children there of around his own age (her sister, Daphne, was three years his junior and therefore not someone he was interested in talking to). He was hesitant, however; what if she wanted to talk about her mother? What was he supposed to say? What would he do if she started crying?

At that moment, perhaps sensing his presence, Astoria turned her head, and her brown eyes immediately caught his.

"Hello," she said, her voice slightly gravelly. Draco wondered whether she always sounded like that, or if it meant she'd been crying.

"Hi. I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy," he puffing out his chest in that pompous way he always had when he'd mentioned his name in those days.

"Hello Draco. I'm Astoria," she said, giving no indication that his name meant anything to her, which irked him somewhat. "Do you want to sit with me?"

Draco shrugged, but duly walked around and sat on the end of the bench. They sat in silence for a while, Astoria scuffing her shoes against the stone again until Draco suddenly asked:

"So, how did your mother die?"

He knew it was a stupid and insensitive question almost as soon as he'd said it. It was just that it had been bothering him since he'd asked his father that morning. He'd considered his father an infallible font of all knowledge at that point in time, so when his father was unable to give him an answer, his desire for it had grown tenfold.

Astoria turned her face to him, and he could see that her eyes looked slightly pink and swollen; perhaps she had been crying after all. However, her voice did not betray any emotion when she replied:

"I don't know. All dad will say is that she 'died in the line of duty' or something. I don't even think he knows. I overheard him the night it happened, shouting at the Minister. He thought I was asleep in my sister's room, but really I snuck downstairs when I heard someone apparate into the living room. I knew something had happened to mum after dad got an owl at dinner time, you see. He went all pale and sent us straight to bed, even though it was only seven o'clock, and made me sleep in my sister's room. I only have to stay there if he thinks she will need looking after, and I knew mum was working that night - I guess you just get a feeling sometimes, you know?

Anyway, I went downstairs after I heard someone apparate, like I said. It was Fudge, and dad was shouting something terrible at him. 'WHY CAN'T I SEE HER?! LET ME SEE HER BODY, THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!' and all of that, but Fudge just kept saying that it wasn't possible, that mum and dad knew about the secret nature of her work and what it would mean if she died while performing it. We weren't even allowed to see her after to say goodbye or anything - it was closed casket on Ministry orders."

Draco suddenly realised that he had been gaping at her, and promptly closed his mouth.

"So that's how you found out your mum had died? From listening at the door?" he asked. He'd never experienced the death of anyone in his own family, but it seemed to him a rather sad way to find out.

"Yes. My dad came in the next morning and told us, and of course I didn't say anything about what I'd heard, but yes, that's how I found out," she said, and turned away from him, looking instead towards the last rays of the sun as it set over the rolling hills of Oxfordshire.

Draco looked over at her. The warm yellow rays caught golden flecks dotted in her eyes, and her hair shone faintly in the light. Draco realised with a jolt that he thought she was quite pretty, and at this thought he turned away, embarrassed.

"So, I guess you'll be going to school soon, then? Have you got your Hogwarts letter yet? I don't know when they send them out, I won't get mine until next year," said Draco, in an attempt to steer his thoughts away from where they'd been.

"Well, actually, I'm not-"

"ASTORIA!" Came a shout from the house. They both turned to see an older woman stood at the doorway, wearing long, navy robes and her hair grey and straggly - Draco thought she might be Astoria's grandmother.

"Coming!" said Astoria, hopping down from the bench and making it half way to the door before she turned back to Draco.

"Thank you for talking to me, Draco. It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. I'll see you at school next-" but she had already turned away, walking over to her grandmother, who put a hand in the small of her back and led her into the house.

* * *

The wizard ahead of Draco strode at a brisk pace, his magenta robes billowing behind him. Draco thought this a rather garish colour for taking someone into hiding, especially considering all the precautions they had been taking - Draco hidden in a dark grey hooded cloak (he tried not to think about similar hooded cloaks he'd worn lately), and three portkeys used to get them to their destination - wherever it was. Shacklebolt had thought it best that Draco remain ignorant of where he was going.

"We will be arriving shortly," the wizard said over his shoulder curtly, as they walked through the grassy field the last portkey had taken them to. Draco did not reply, instead focusing on keeping the light of his wand steady in the dark field, and not stepping in anything unpleasant.

Draco had surprised everyone when he'd said Astoria's name - not least of all, himself. He hadn't thought of her for a good many years - and hadn't seen her in even longer. Shacklebolt, along with the majority of wizards in the room it seemed, had never even heard of the girl. It had been the wizard with the Quick-Quotes Quill who was the only one who seemed to know who she was.

"Ah...I had no idea they had a second - oh, I see..." said Shacklebolt as the assistant wizard whispered quickly into his ear. He nodded in understanding, and the assistant wizard sat back down, staring straight at Draco.

"Well, I am aware of her sister, certainly - Daphne, I believe, young Hufflepuff girl. I see no reason that she would not be a suitable host, if she is agreeable. However - Mr Malfoy, you are aware that Miss Greengrass is a-"

"Of course I do!" snapped Draco, mostly because he was embarrassed he'd even said he name in the first place.

"Very well, I will send an owl immediately," said Shacklebolt.

If Draco had been surprised when he'd thought of Astoria, it was nothing to the surprise he'd felt when he was told that she had agreed to let him hide out at her house. He'd fully expected her to say no - why on earth would she agree? He fully intended this to be the first thing he asked.

Before long, Draco and the Magenta-robed wizard had arrived at a very thin looking mid-terrace house in the centre of a muggle street.

"This is it, number 207. She is expecting you," said the wizard and with a nod, he walked back along the street, a faint pop sounding as soon as he stepped behind a large van.

Draco looked at the door; the numbers 207 were painted on sloppily in cheap gold paint, but couldn't find a door knocker anywhere. How did muggles usually let someone know they had arrived at their residence? Knock directly onto the door? He had no idea. Just as he was about to do so, Draco noticed a small, rectangular box with a button in the middle to the side of the door. He had the distinct feeling that this must have something to do with it so, hesitantly, he touched the button, and nearly jumped when a loud ring immediately sounded within the house.

The door opened in less than five seconds from the obnoxious ringing sound, and Draco was suddenly looking at the face of Astoria Greengrass.

She was dressed, unsurprisingly, in muggle clothing - a pair of light blue trousers and a grey, fitted top. Her hair was almost the same as he remembered; still curly to the point of being slightly frizzy, but now a few shades darker. Her eyes seemed darker too, he thought, though it could have merely been the dim lighting making him think so.

"Well? Come in, then!" said Astoria impatiently, when Draco remained still at the doorway, silent.

Astoria turned away from him, walking back into the house, and Draco promptly stepped in, closing the door behind him.

As Draco had expected, the house was very small and narrow. He had stepped straight into the living room, which barely had enough space for the two dark red sofas squashed into it, surrounding a large black box whose purpose he was unaware of. Unless it was hiding under the stairs, there did not appear to be a dining room at all, and the short, galley-style kitchen was tacked on to the far end of the house.

"Come up and I'll show you your room," said Astoria, as she walked up the steepest stairs Draco thought he had ever seen (and Malfoy Manor had some unusual stairs).

He walked up behind her, holding onto the railing tightly, until he came to the top of the stairs. He supposed this was the landing, if you could call it that - there was barely space to step off of the stairs before you were forced to step inside one of three rooms. The first one, at the immediate top of the stairs, was a small bathroom. The next two were both bedrooms, and he was surprised to note that they both had room for a double bed.

"You'll be in this one," said Astoria, gesturing to the one on the far end, "My housemate quit her course a few weeks ago and left. I've been looking for a new housemate but, lucky for you, hadn't found one yet."

Draco had no idea what Astoria was talking about when she mentioned a 'course', but nodded anyway, walking into the bare, magnolia-walled room and setting his small bag down on the bed.

"You haven't brought that much," said Astoria with a frown, looking at the bag.

"What? Of course I have, it's obviously magically-"

"Made bigger. Right, of course," Astoria cut in awkwardly, "Anyway, I suppose I'll leave you to sleep, it's quite late. You know where my room is, if you need anything."

"Wait!" said Draco, as Astoria turned to leave. She turned back expectantly.

"I just...I just wanted to ask something. I mean, you don't know me and I don't know you, at least not anymore, so I was just wondering...why? Why are you letting me stay here?" said Draco. Pride be damned, he needed to know!

Astoria turned fully back to him then, and her eyes looked cold, sad, almost steely.

"Because, Draco Malfoy, you are the first person of the wizarding world, except for my sister, who has willingly volunteered to see me in over 7 years."

That night, Draco tossed and turned in his new bed, his head a mess of conflicting emotions; one moment he worried for his safety, the next he wouldn't have cared if Bellatrix Lestrange apparated into the room at that very moment. One second he worried for his father, the next he hoped he ended up back in Azkaban for life. Draco thought about many things before he fell asleep that night, but the one thing he refused to dwell on was the pang of something (guilt? compassion?) he'd felt at what Astoria had said. He refused even more strongly to think about the fact that, even after all these years, Draco Malfoy still had a crush on Astoria Greengrass.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and for the reviews! I was genuinely so happy to see people favourite, follow and review my story, you are all stars. I thought it was about time you had a chapter update, so you at least know I'm not one of those 'post chapter 1 and then disappear forever' types.

If you have any questions, comments or anything else please let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

It took more than a few days for Draco to feel even the smallest bit comfortable with his new living situation. For one thing, he didn't think he'd ever been in a smaller dwelling in his life - he was sure even _house elves_ got bigger accommodations than this. However, Astoria merely said that she "liked the cosy atmosphere" and that "besides, it was very cheap". Draco didn't doubt it.

Secondly, Draco found that he had many muggle contraptions to deal with, very few of which he had any notion of how to use. He did, of course, use magic as often as he could, but even here he ran into problems; after all, a wizard could only do spells if he knew them, and Draco had simply never learned any of the ones for household chores. When had he needed to? And with no spell books to hand, he found himself for the first (and he very much hoped the last) time, completely at the mercy of the muggle world.

The need to rely on muggle technology had become evident on only the second morning in Astoria's home, when he had decided, in frustration, to use _Incendio_ to make himself some toast and had almost set the entire kitchen on fire. Astoria had not been particularly happy with him for this, complaining about her deposit and that he'd almost "set off the fire alarm", whatever that was. After throwing out the char-grilled toast, she had insisted on showing him how to use the toaster, which like most muggle technology he had used so far was not complicated, but achingly slow. Draco also found the he could not help but jump whenever the toast popped out of the toaster, no matter how often he used it. He pretended not to see Astoria hiding a smile whenever this happened.

Another new aspect to his life was, of course, the muggle clothing he had to wear. Astoria had again ended up leading the way on this; the Ministry had given him a few items to wear, but after walking downstairs on the forth day to a laugh half way between a howl and a snort he had decided that these might not be the best choice (his outfit had consisted of some bulky boots, a multi-coloured t-shirt and a small red pair of very uncomfortable, tight shorts which Astoria later informed him were in fact a form of muggle swimwear). After going back upstairs and changing back into his robes with Astoria's laughter still ringing in his ears, he stomped back downstairs, declaring muggle clothing "ridiculous" and that he "wouldn't be setting a foot outside this dump anyway so it doesn't matter".

Astoria's laughter quietened down at this and Draco half expected her to get angry with him, but although her face looked rather set she said, "You're right, some muggle clothes are pretty ridiculous. Then again, you never met my Great Aunt Enid; there was this robe she used to wear that looked like she'd dyed a haystack red and then stuck her head through it."

Despite himself, Draco couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"Anyway, I think even _I_ could do better than that. If all those clothes at least fit, let me just check the sizes and I'll go buy you some slightly less bizarre clothes this afternoon. No promises though; as you can see, I'm not the most stylish myself," she said, gesturing at her own clothing which consisted of a pair of olive green trousers and an overlarge, hairy white jumper with the silhouette of some kind of odd horse-looking creature across the front.

Draco verbally agreed with her, but secretly he felt that Astoria's slightly wild blonde curls somehow made the otherwise ugly jumper work.

That afternoon, Astoria came back with three large bags full of clothes. Draco stared as she placed the bags on the tiny dining table in the corner of the living room apprehensively, but said nothing.

"Don't worry, I'll get the money I spent back from the Ministry," said Astoria after a few moments, before walking into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

Draco didn't know her well enough to be sure whether this was meant sarcastically or not, but nevertheless did feel slightly chastised for not having considered this at all.

The clothes themselves, as it turned out, were actually quite inoffensive, for muggle clothes. The majority of them were in dark or pastel shades, and there was a mix of button-up shirts and plain, slightly tight t-shirts (although unlike the swimming shorts, these were actually quite comfortable), as well as a few jumpers and jackets. The trousers were mostly in dark blue or black and of a slightly rough material Astoria called 'denim', although there were also a few in more familiar materials. To Draco's embarrassment, there was also a selection of underwear in the bag - he packed these away quickly and without comment.

The next morning, Draco came down to a slightly different reception. Astoria was in the kitchen, putting bread into the toaster and making herself a coffee with a rather noisy and complicated machine which Draco had so far avoided using. Draco walked over to the cupboard, taking out a glass before opening the fridge to find the orange juice. As he poured himself a glass, Astoria looked over to him.

"Ah, morning Draco-oh," she said, taking in his attire.

He had chosen to wear a pair of dark 'jeans', as well as a navy blue shirt, and had rolled the sleeves up, as it was a fairly warm autumn day.

"Oh? Well that's better than what you said yesterday, so I take it you approve?" said Draco.

"Much better than Speedos," said Astoria with a playful smile.

"Well...I suppose I have you to thank for the, er, better choice in clothing..." said Draco awkwardly. Unless he was trying to win favour with someone important, he rarely said thank you. He wanted to look away from her, but was finding it quite difficult to do so.

"You're welcome," said Astoria sincerely, and she didn't look away either. Astoria's eyes seemed to glitter in the pale morning light. The tiny kitchen suddenly felt even smaller than usual.

 _POP!_

This time, both of them jumped when the toast popped out of the toaster.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me longer than I said! Quite honestly I was being a bit optimistic thinking I could come back from a 10 day holiday and get a chapter out immediately, and it's kinda hard to write after a day at work so there was no hope from Tuesday onwards.

Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter! This one went off in a slightly different direction than I had in mind. I actually had another small 'event' planned to occur in this chapter, but then Astoria and Draco just seemed to want to have this little moment in the kitchen and who was I to stop them?

Also, yes, I totally made Draco wear red Speedos. You're welcome.

And in case you're wondering the 'horse-like animals' were, of course, llamas. I'm not sure why but I just don't feel like a pureblood wizard from the UK would know what a llama is.

If you have any other questions about what happened in this or other chapters, any predictions, or comments on this chapter, please let me know! I would love to hear what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I apologise profusely for the long wait. I'll be honest, had a lot of trouble with this chapter, and did a lot of editing before I felt it was ready. Hopefully what you've been left with is worth the wait! Please also see the end for some LONG overdue, personal thank yous!**

* * *

Draco was dreaming. In his dream, he was walking through Malfoy Manor. The house was dark and quiet, and he was alone. Pictures of ancestors, which had always lined the walls of the manor, were blurred and he couldn't make out their faces. He was aware he was looking for something for the Dark Lord. He had no idea what this was, but he knew he had to find it quickly. Only, the further he walked, the more he realised that there was something wrong. The corridors made no sense, they kept changing - lefts where there should be rights, rooms from the ground floor now up on the first. He started to panic - how was he going to find what he was looking for if he couldn't find his way around?! He started running through the corridors, which seemed to go on forever, twisting around on each other in impossible ways. He turned a corner and suddenly, up ahead, was the Room of Requirement. He ran inside, the door closing behind him, and found himself in the Room of Hidden Things. He began to weave between the various piles of objects, when a voice called out to him.

"Draco! Over here!"

He turned; Astoria was stood there, her hair wild and windswept, a look of terror written across her face.

"Draco! Quickly! He's going to find us! We have to go!"

And immediately Draco wasn't looking for something for the Dark Lord, he was running from him. He hurried over to Astoria, grabbing her arms in his.

"Quick, in here!" she said, and he realised they were next to the vanishing cabinet. They opened the doors just as he heard the door to the Room of Requirement open, and knew without looking that it was the Dark Lord.

They stepped inside, Draco still holding onto Astoria's arm, closing the doors behind them. Only nothing happened. Why wasn't it working?! They were still there, and Draco could hear the Dark Lord coming closer and closer. The cabinet was completely black, he could see only a slip of light from the crack in the door, hear the panicked breaths of himself and Astoria as he comes closer.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"He's in here!" Astoria suddenly shouted, banging loudly on the cupboard walls, and Draco whipped his head around to look at her, shocked and confused.

Only, it wasn't Astoria anymore, it was the face he'd never forget; Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbidge, and she stared at him, her eyes burning through him.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"He's in here, oh Dark Lord, come and find him!" she snarled, her hate-filled eyes never leaving his face, and Draco could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer, he was almost there, the cupboard door started to open-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Draco woke with a start, realising after a few moments that someone was knocking on the front door of the house.

He opened the door to his room just in time to see Astoria disappearing down the stairs, wrapping herself in a dark pink dressing gown as she went. After finding his own dressing gown, Draco followed, Astoria's voice becoming clearer as he descended.

"I'm sorry," she said, evidently trying not to laugh, "You're the what?"

"I'M THE BROCCOLI MAN, OF COURSE, WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY SOME?" A loud, male voice replied in a strong Welsh accent.

"I...I erm..." Astoria stuttered.

"It's the best produce, fresh from the ministry!" said the man in a much more contained voice.

"Fresh from the..? Oh! Of course, I should have known. Come in, come in!" said Astoria, stepping aside and letting the man through the doorway.

As soon as the man came into view, Draco realised what Astoria just had; he must be from the Ministry of Magic. This was partly due to the clue he'd just given in his last sentence, but was mostly because he was in such a bizarre assortment of clothes that even Draco knew he couldn't possibly be a muggle. He wore a strange hat that seemed to have a small umbrella attached to the top, a pair of sunglasses moulded in the shape of a tropical island, a lime green shirt which he had tied in the middle rather than doing up the buttons, and a tutu. On his feet was a pair of oversized purple slippers in the shape of cats. He also held in his hands a large box full of broccoli. Draco felt that his own blunder in the world of muggle clothing was rather minimal in comparison.

"Sorry about that Miss, got to keep in character you know, can't be too careful. I'm Mervyn, I work in the Auror office. Been asked to come here today just for the implementation of a few protective enchantments, as they're as you might say, my particular area of expertise. Now I can't say they're foolproof, but a stronger anti-hex charm you will not find on this side of the border, if I do say so myself," said Mervyn proudly, holding on to the front of his shirt with both his hands and causing it to gape strangely.

"Now I'll cast a few on the place, and then I'll just have a quick word with you about the possibility of using some more powerful magic," he said, before turning towards the now closed front door and taking out his wand (which had been concealed in the box of broccoli), and began muttering incantations.

Astoria turned to Draco, a contained grin on her face, and subtly gestured towards the kitchen, which was the furthest point from the front door in the house. Draco followed her, and as soon as they reached their destination he could not help but whisper,

"Please tell me I looked slightly less ludicrous than that."

Astoria almost doubled over in silent laughter, and Draco couldn't help but be slightly pleased with himself that he'd made her laugh on purpose for once.

"I can't believe that nobody with a bit more sense told him what he looks like!" she said once her giggles had subsided.

"Oh, I don't know, not sure I would've either," said Draco with a sly smile.

Astoria grinned back at him, and the gold in her eyes sparkled.

This kind of pleasant interaction had so far been a rarity; more often than not, Draco and Astoria were at odds, or at best enduring awkward and stilted conversation. With no real objective beyond waiting for the Ministry to allow him to leave, Draco found himself at a loose end. He was free in a way that he had not been in many years, but he was also completely unprepared to deal with any and all feelings about his recent past, and what he was going to do (or, more likely, what was going to be _done_ with him) after this temporary confinement.

As a result, Draco needed distraction, desperately, and with little else to occupy himself would usually be found following Astoria around like a lost puppy. To her credit, Astoria never told him outright to leave her alone, but neither did she appear wholly comfortable with his company. At times, she would be happy (or, at least, politely cooperative enough) to show him a muggle device or form of entertainment, whilst at other times becoming guarded and defensive, shutting off the device and asking him brusquely what he wanted. He supposed he did not help matters himself; his automatic response of sneering distain at anything muggle was difficult to avoid, and it was obvious that Astoria felt this to be a personal attack. As neither of them was particularly keen to examine the reasons behind their own reactions, this usually resulted in the exchange of a few sharp words, followed by a tense silence.

More pleasant exchanges like now had so far happened only a few times before. The first, and the most memorable, had been when Astoria had first seen Draco making smoke animals with his wand.

This had been a private habit of his for a long time; in fact, the spell for this particular trick had been one of the first he'd ever learnt. He had learnt it in his first year, idly leafing through a book he'd found in the library. He had thought it to contain dark magic, initially, due to its title: _Magic of the Shadows._ He should have known, of course, that this was unlikely, given that it wasn't even in the restricted section. However, it wasn't until he got it back to his room that he came to realise that it was simply a small book about amusing spells based on shadows or shadow-like substances. Nevertheless, with little else to do (Crabbe and Goyle had gotten themselves into detention with McGonagall for god-knows-what), Draco had looked through the book anyway, hoping to find something interesting.

He wasn't sure why he stopped at the Smoke Creature Spell, but he had been somehow intrigued by it. The creatures made were nothing like a Patronus; these were much smaller, more wispy, and made of a dark-coloured smoke which rolled and curled in a way unlike the bright solidness of a full Patronus. The caster was also able to create more than one creature at once, which would then interact - play, fight, comfort one another; all manner of interactions were possible. The spell proved both an easy one to master and one which Draco came back to time and time again, especially when he needed time away from his thoughts.

Draco had been up early one morning a few days after his arrival, having slept badly, and had come down to sit in the living room. It was not long until he had fallen back on his old pastime.

"Wow that's...amazing," said a voice behind him, and Draco turned to see Astoria, dressed in a long turquoise skirt and a beige blouse decorated in a light floral pattern, and staring in wonder at the smoke animals.

He had made two foxes, who were currently circling each other in a playful manner.

"Oh, it's just a little amusement, you know..." said Draco, slightly self-conscious.

"I...forgot how much I missed it," said Astoria, coming up to stand next to the sofa, watching as one of the foxes jumped over the other before turning to chase it.

"Missed what?" asked Draco.

"Missed magic," she said, and her smile was wide, warm and lovely, even if there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"Well, that's that," came Mervyn's lilting voice again, breaking Draco's reverie, "so, a fidelius charm, what do you think?"

"I..uh..." stumbled Astoria, a slight flush staining her cheeks.

"Oh I do apologise Miss, my mistake," said Mervyn good-naturedly, "A fidelius charm means that this location is unplottable, meaning nobody can reveal, find or even see its location. Only those who already know your address, or who are told it by the Secret Keeper can find it. Now, I have to tell you that historically the fidelius charm has been rather...dangerous to the Secret Keeper. But in this case I'd say it's pretty low risk, if you even choose to use it at all."

Astoria turned to Draco, her eyebrow raised in question, and Draco shrugged noncommittally. He would never admit as much, of course, but the notion that the fidelius charm was even being considered made him feel tense and slightly queasy. Was he really still in so much danger? He'd thought his time in 'hiding' might be drawing to a close quite soon, but it seemed that quite the opposite was true.

"Well I guess it sounds...okay?" said Astoria, after a long pause.

"Brilliant! Well, as you're the most obvious and convenient choice, are you happy to be the Secret Keeper?" said Mervyn.

"Can you even _be_ a Secret Keeper?" said Draco before he could stop himself.

"Of course I can, Draco. Magic works on everyone, even muggles - surely _you_ would know that," snapped Astoria.

"Yes, I suppose I would," spat Draco, before storming back up the staircase to his room.

"Shit, I didn't mean..."

Draco heard her say as he closed the door to his room with a bang. The dream from that morning was still fresh in his mind, taking him back to that time in the manor. Only now he was remembering all the muggles too - the ones the Dark Lord had killed, the ones he'd taken back to the manor to torture. Even worse, when Bellatrix tortured them, and there was no place in the house that their screams couldn't be heard...

A few hours later, Draco decided that he could no longer stand to remain in his room. He had started at every crack, ripple, and piece of blistered paint on the entirety of the walls and ceiling, had closed and opened each set of drawers on this sideboard at least three times, and had made smoke-animals with his wand until he couldn't think of another one. None of it had helped him take his mind off his memories, and the longer he spent in his room, the more ridiculous he felt for having stormed off in the first place. It was obvious that he'd touched a nerve with his comment, and as Astoria herself had claimed, she probably hadn't meant what she said in the way he'd taken it. Besides which, a delicious smell of cooking was beginning to waft under the door, and Draco was beginning to feel very hungry.

Before he could change his mind, Draco left his room and wandered downstairs, finding himself back in the kitchen, where Astoria was stirring a pot of soup on the stove. They stood in silence for a while, Astoria never looking up from her spoon and Draco watching as the ripples moved slowly over the surface of the rich red liquid.

"So I agreed to the fiddly-us charm, or whatever it's called. Guess I'm a Secret Keeper now, hopefully won't be too much of a bother, though I guess that's it for impromptu house parties. Not that you could fit more than five people in here anyway. Um, you can have some of this soup if you want, it's just tomato and from a tin, but it's pretty nice. And, er, sorry."

Astoria's conversation was so meandering that he almost missed the last part entirely.

"Me too. For the soup I mean! I mean I'll have the same as you, the soup," blundered Draco.

He hadn't meant the soup at all, and he wished he was able to make himself say so. Astoria handed him a steaming bowl and a spoon, a gentle smile on her face, but said no more.

* * *

A/N: Man, although I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, there were some bits that flowed really naturally and I really enjoyed writing. Also, I hope you liked Mervyn at least a little bit because I have a little bit of a soft spot for him and he'll probably be appearing again at some point :)

Thank you so much to: alba, scheifchen, baa220767, and all the guests who left reviews. Thank you to: Anonymuggle, Beijing28, LunaScamander17, MissMatchedEyes, anggelica2018, bobbo08, sugobe and scheifchen and baa220767 AGAIN for following, thank you PuppyProngs as well as sugobe and baa220767 a THIRD time for favouriting. AND thank you everyone who has read this but not done any of these things, I really hope you are enjoying it!


	5. Chapter 5

**lololololol. So. Hey. Long time no see. Just been, you know, doing stuff. For two years. I'm sure any poor readers who still care about this alert will be absolutely livid to learn that not only do I not have the excuse of a sudden death, but I actually had this half written in my documents the entire time.**

 **I know. I'm so sorry.**

 **I saw someone favourite this the other day and I felt so terribly guilty, and was so surprised someone bothered to look at something which hadn't been updated in so long, that I finally forced myself to write. I have forgotten your username, but if you're reading, thank you.**

 **Sorry again. It's the longest chapter yet, so I hope that helps a little.**

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy drew her coat tighter around herself, looking around furtively. According to the Ministry official that had taken her to Andromeda's home, she was not meant to leave the building. Andromeda's London flat was too close to Diagon Alley to be a safe place to wander around without a disguise, but the frosty atmosphere in number 31 was too much to bear that night. She hadn't wandered far in any case, just around the corner, next to a small alleyway at the back of the block. Across from her was a muggle food shop, a fairly consistent stream of muggles coming and going from it despite the fact that it was gone midnight. From her place in the alleyway, she was barely noticeable; leaning against the wall, cast entirely in shadow, the chilly cloud of her breath the only sign of life.

It had been a number of weeks since Narcissa had come to stay with her sister, and the atmosphere had hardly improved from the first day. In all honesty, it was hardly likely that they were going to get on particularly well after 20 years of ignoring each other, but their reunion had gone even worse than Narcissa had expected.

"Hatfield Road, yes this is the place," said the Ministry woman, crumpling the parchment she'd been reading from and stuffing it back into her pocket. She walked them up the street at a surprisingly brisk pace for a witch of her age - she had to be over 90, at least. Narcissa looked up at the block of flats with an unimpressed sneer - she knew her sister had married a mudblood, but she hadn't realised he'd been so _poor._ The entered the lobby after the Ministry witch had entered some kind of code into a number pad next to the door, and took the slightly unstable lift up to the 3rd floor. The hallway on the 3rd floor was not quite as dilapidated as the lift had lead Narcissa to expect, but was still a place that, in her old life, she wouldn't have set foot in. But, unfortunately, this was not Narcissa's old life. The old witch took the parchment out of her pocket again, checking the number before knocking on number 31.

The door opened after only a few moments and there, unmistakably, stood Andromeda Tonks née Black. She looked so much like Bellatrix, even more so than Narcissa remembered, and yet at the same time she couldn't have looked more different. Dromeda's dark hair was smooth and pulled into a long, neat-looking plait. She wore glasses now, with dark pink, square frames, which softened her face considerably. She was also more plump and healthy-looking than her sister - Bellatrix's many years in Azkaban had left her waxy-skinned and bony. Before Narcissa could do more than assess her appearance, Andromeda spoke.

"I've invited you to stay here because I was asked to, and because of what you did for Harry. I don't forgive you and I don't want to hear your reasons, thoughts or excuses about what you have done and what you have allowed to be done, to me or to anyone else. Is that clear?" Despite looking much kinder than Bellatrix, Andromeda's voice in that moment was just as cold.

"I certainly didn't come here looking for your _forgiveness,_ Andromeda," replied Narcissa scathingly.

"No, you came here because there is nobody else who would volunteer to have you in their home. Get used to being seen as the scum you've always treated others as, sister; I can't say it wasn't a long time coming."

They had hardly spoken a word since then, except for short, clipped answers to necessary questions. Andromeda was devoting most of her time to looking after her grandson, Teddy. Narcissa devoted nearly as much time to ignoring her great-nephew, and to pretending she didn't hear Andromeda sobbing in her room late into the night.

Suddenly, a figure walked past the shop Narcissa was staring at, and she was pulled from her reverie. They were walking quickly, and now no longer stood in the light cast from the shop window, making it harder to see them clearly, but for a moment, Narcissa had been sure it was - but no. That was ridiculous; she didn't know why she'd even thought it. Even so, Narcissa decided that perhaps she'd spent enough time outside, and began to head back into the flat.

It had been a few weeks now since she'd first come to Andromeda's, and Narcissa had yet to write to Draco. The thought had been on her mind for some time, but with their current tense relationship, she had been putting it off. She had no idea where he was staying, but the Ministry witch had assured her that it was safer this way. She was to send her letter to the Ministry, who would send it on to Draco. She wondered, idly, where they'd placed him; probably with some awful Order member.

Yes, she resolved; she would send a letter to Draco tomorrow. With that thought, she put the key in the door and the figure from her mind.

* * *

It had only been a matter of time, really, before Draco and Astoria had an argument that really meant something. That time had come during the first week of Astoria returning to her University classes.

Without Astoria, Draco had only himself for company, and he could think of nobody he would rather spend time with less. Before he'd left, the Ministry worker, Mervyn, had offered to bring him a few books, games, or anything else that might pass the time. However, Draco had never been much of a reader, and wizarding games usually required a second player, so apart from a deck of self-shuffling cards (he played Patience until he thought his brain would fall out) and a few spell books (which he had barely glanced at), Draco did not ask for much.

Tonight, Astoria was at a 'society', which she explained was a kind of hobby group, where people with a common interest met up to take part or discuss said interest, and to socialise. This usually lasted a few hours, but Astoria had said that sometimes the group went to the pub afterwards, so she might be back late.

As for Draco, wandering around the house aimlessly was his current occupation. As the house was so small, this was not taking a long time, and he was just considering whether reading _The Standard Book of Spells Grade VI_ was more or less boring than a third tour of the living room when he heard a sharp tap at the window.

A small barn owl was looking at him through the glass, flapping its wings frantically as it tapped again at the glass.

Draco walked over and opened window at once, allowing the bird to swoop in. It immediately came to perch neatly on his arm, holding out its leg obediently. As soon as Draco had removed the letter, the owl flew over to the sink, took a swift drink from one of the almost-full glasses of water awaiting washing, and then flew over to a lampshade where it sat and began to clean its wings.

Draco looked down at the parchment now in his hand. ' _Astoria'_ was printed across it in slightly spidery handwriting.

He knew he shouldn't, he really did. But it was bound to be from the Ministry (she'd had no other post since she arrived, except the muggle kind). If it was from the Ministry, it was probably about him. And if it was about him, he wanted to know what they were _really_ telling Astoria, not what she'd tell him they were saying. The parchment was sealed, but it didn't look to be a magical seal, just normal wax. He could repair it as soon as he'd read it, she would never know.

Without pausing to consider further, Draco opened the parchment.

 _Asty_

 _I know you hate me writing to you this way, but I had to get a message to you quickly, and the muggle post takes too long._

 _I'm sure you know already, but the War is over! It's over, Asty, and You-Know-Who was defeated, Harry Potter killed him! I was there! I know, I told you I would stay safe, but people were dying, and I had to do something. I couldn't just leave with those others who 'didn't want to get involved'. I had to stay with my friends, and try to help them, protect them. I guess I am a true Hufflepuff after all._

 _I'm fine, and all of my friends made it too, although Rebecca lost her younger brother, which really hit her hard. We're trying to support her as best we can._

 _But I have other news._

 _I'm not sure how to say this, but grandmother...she passed away last night. I know you hated each other, and I never liked her either, especially with how she treated you, but...she was still our grandmother, and it's strange to think that she's gone, even if I'm not sorry for it._

 _I'm really sorry to tell you all this in a letter, but I wasn't sure what else to do, and I didn't think you'd mind. Hope your university course is going well._

 _Love always,_

 _Daphne_

 _P.S._

 _Please let me visit you. If you won't let me visit you, then please at least write back to me, even if it's just to say you got my letter. Penny will wait until you give her a reply or tell her to go._

Well, it definitely wasn't from the Ministry. Just as Draco was starting a second read, he heard the sound of keys jingling, and before he could do more than turn around and clasp the parchment behind his back, the door was opening.

"I'm back! Didn't go for drinks in the end, there wasn't that many people there and they had essays so- are you alright?" said Astoria.

"I'm fine," said Draco a bit too firmly, trying not to flush.

Astoria frowned at him.

"Okay...you just seem a little-"

 _SCREEEEEEEECH_

The owl chose that moment to make its presence known, flapping its wings in excitement.

"Oh, hey, Penny. That's my sister's owl..." said Astoria, looking confused.

Draco stood up straighter, trying desperately to think of a way to seal the letter while it was behind his back, and without speaking. Just as Draco was thinking of trying to sneak his wand from his pocket, Astoria looked over to him, eyes narrowed.

"You have it, don't you? The letter?"

"No!" said Draco unconvincingly.

"No? Why are you standing with your arms behind your back like you're from the 18th bloody century then? Put your hands out in front of you!"

Deciding that there was no point hiding it any longer, Draco held out the letter to Astoria.

"I wasn't snooping, I just thought it was a Ministry-"

Astoria's face flushed angrily.

"You bloody were snooping, it's got my fucking name on it! You actually _opened_ it and _read_ it, didn't you? You sneaky, conniving little louse!"

Astoria's hair, usually slightly untamed, was windswept from her walk outside, which coupled with her now livid face only added further to her wild, manic look.

"Don't worry, you're not _that_ interesting, just your stupid sister complaining you won't let her visit. Why's that, scared to show her this dump?" sneered Draco.

Astoria looked as if she was about to burst a vein.

"How fucking dare you. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"

Astoria screamed, then marched up to him, and Draco was sure he was about to get a slap to the face. Instead, Astoria snatched the letter out of his hand.

"Next time you complain about this _dump_ , Draco, just remember that I am one of the only people you know, or have ever known, who will even fucking _talk_ to you right now. And that _YOU_ asked to come here. Not me."

With that, Astoria stormed out of the house, letter still in hand.

Penny _ho'd_ dejectedly.

* * *

It had taken a good while for things to go back to somewhat 'normal' between them again.

Draco was certainly not one for apologies, so if Astoria was hoping for one, she had been disappointed. Draco did, however, find himself doing things he wouldn't normally bother with. Rather than expecting Astoria to clean his clothes, Draco had decided to learn how to use the washing machine (okay, so he cheated a bit and used magic...but it hadn't broken it, so he decided that was as good as using it the muggle way).

He also looked after the owl, Penny, which ended up staying a couple of days with them. He only fed it a few times and gave it a better water bowl, but the owl seemed to appreciate it, often coming over to perch by him. At one point, Astoria commented that Penny must like him, because she never usually took to strangers, and after that the air seemed less tense.

Now, a week later, Astoria was at class again, and Draco was back to being bored. He flicked through the TV channels for the fifteenth time that day. It was almost twenty past two in the afternoon, and Astoria was due back from class any moment, thank god. Draco didn't think he could stand another moment in the tiny house on his own. He'd been initially reluctant to turn to muggle technology, but with little else to entertain him, he had found himself desperate for something to alleviate the boredom. So far, however, the television had done little of that. Whenever Astoria used it, she seemed to find a show that was at least mildly entertaining, but whenever he used it, there seemed to be nothing but dull shows where people sat around and talked about muggle politics. He'd mentioned this to Astoria, who had told him that it was because it was 'daytime telly' and that nothing good was ever on until at least 9pm. She also had a collection of longer shows on black, rectangular boxes called video tapes which she would sometimes put on, but Draco was definitely not comfortable enough with muggle technology to begin putting his hand into strange, whirring machines with unseen parts just to watch one.

Just as Draco was beginning his trip through the channels for a sixteenth time, he heard the lock start to turn, and he tried not to look to eager to see Astoria as she stepped through the door, her curly hair in wild disarray from the strong wind blowing through the doorway. She was wearing a pair of dungarees over a long sleeved, pale pink t-shirt, and her large green backpack was slung over one shoulder.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully, a large grin on her face.

"Good day?" said Draco, as he watched her shrug off the heavy backpack and drop it next to the sofa.

"Brilliant. Got one of my essays back today, got an 82 for it! Couldn't believe it!" she said as she sifted through her bag, before brandishing what he assumed was the essay in question.

"Oh, er, well done?" said Draco.

Astoria looked up, realising that she was probably talking nonsense to Draco.

"82 means good. Like, very good- over 70 is in the top tier for marks, called a First. 82 is extremely good, like they hardly ever give a mark that high."

"Oh! Wow, that's...that's great. Really! You must have, you know, worked really hard," said Draco.

"I did!" said Astoria, grinning.

It was then that Draco realised that he had no idea what Astoria studied. Although they had talked many times over the last few weeks (save the last), their interactions generally stayed at a very surface level; they talk about general day-to-day goings on, whatever programme Astoria was showing Draco on the television, or, rarely, a spell or enchantment Astoria wanted Draco to recreate as it was something she 'missed' from the wizarding world. However, they never talked about the meaning behind these things; both Draco and Astoria had their own reasons for remaining aloof, and this meant that their conversations were generally kept on the light and impersonal side. Something about her happy demeanour today, though, as well as his own curiosity, made Draco feel bold enough to ask more.

"What is it that you study then?" he asked, and Astoria looked up at him, clearly surprised that he had taken any interest in her muggle life.

"I study Psychology," she said, and upon Draco's blank look continued, "It's a bit hard to explain, but basically it's the study of the mind."

"Oh," said Draco. He didn't know what he expected Astoria to study at the muggle university (ekeltricity?), but that certainly wasn't it. Clearly, however, it was something which Astoria was very keen on, as she continued without prompting:

"It's really interesting, actually, especially for someone like me. There isn't any equivalence at all in the wizarding world, that I know of. It just doesn't seem to be something that any great thought has gone into; there are many, often instant cures for various physical ailments, but really in terms of mental health the muggles are decades ahead. What happens to wizards and witches who have a mental illness? We bung them in St Mungos, mostly. But are they getting better there? Well if it's organic, perhaps we can fix whatever bit of brain has been damaged, but if it's a curse, usually not. There are a few potions that help re-balance brain chemicals, so that can help. If it's a bit of errant magic, the Reversal Squad might be able to fix it. But even that doesn't work half the time; I remember a few patients back when I was a kid that my dad told me about, had messed up a memory charm, and it was so bad they never managed to fix it. So what happened? Well, they were cared for, certainly, but nothing more. There wasn't a magical solution, so that was that. Psychology is all about figuring out the _why_ and the _how._ Why does someone think the way they do? How can we understand it? And how can we begin to change those patterns of thinking, or teach them new or alternative ways to improve their lives? There's so many schools of thought, from the more chemical-based to the physical to the entirely talking based, and new ways of working are being invented all the time."

Astoria paused, looking over at Draco, whose face must have suggested he was completely lost, as she added,

"Sorry, I must be boring you, rambling on like that."

"No, that's okay," said Draco, who felt compelled after last week's disaster with the letter to try to keep a more positive conversation going. "Your dad used to work in St. Mungos, didn't he? Is that part of why you wanted to study...psyology?"

"Psychology," Astoria corrected, "And yes, actually, he did work on the mental health ward for a while, and I remember how frustrated he used to get, that he couldn't help them more. That and...well, you know..."

Shit. How could he have forgotten? Had he managed to put his foot in it again?

But Astoria didn't seem upset with him, although changed the subject the next moment.

"Well, I'd better get on and make myself some lunch, haven't had time to eat yet, and I have a society thing later. Did you want anything?"

"Oh, no, I've had something," said Draco quickly, pointing to his empty plate. It was just a simple meal of chicken and chips, but it was by far the most complicated he'd ever ventured to get with the oven.

"Okay, no worries," said Astoria, getting up to go to the kitchen.

So far, Astoria hadn't commented on Draco's increased independence, which on balance Draco was glad of. Just because he was _possibly_ trying to impress her, didn't mean he wanted it acknowledged.

"Anything on?" she called as she began making herself a sandwich.

"Not really. I think it's called... _Jerry Springer_?"

"Oh, that'll do. It's crap, but it's fun to laugh at the idiots on there," said Astoria, sitting herself back down with her sandwich in hand, "I mean look at that guy. He looks like someone messed up trying to transfigure him into a lizard!"

Draco couldn't help but snort at that.

"Better looking than his wife though. Or is that his sister?"

"On this show, Draco? Just pray she's not both!"

So for the next half an hour while Astoria ate her lunch, they joked at the TV contestant's expense, getting more wild in their accusations and stories until Astoria nearly choked on a crisp after a particularly biting comment of Draco's, which he declared a win.

Afterwards, Draco realised that he hadn't laughed so much with anyone in a very long time.

* * *

 **I know it was a bit choppy, but I thought I'd better post it before I decided on another unexplained 2 year hiatus.**

 **I don't** ** _plan_** **to do that again, but obviously no guarantees. I am having an awful time at work atm, tbh, and idk if that will mean I write more or less. Could go either way.**

 **I won't ask for anything because I deserve no reviews for leaving you hanging and then giving you this half-baked nonsense. I just hope it was good-ish.**


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